


Normalcy

by afrocurl



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-30
Updated: 2008-05-30
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They each crave something that they've lost, but even in each other there's something missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normalcy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaotic4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotic4life/gifts).



> Written for [](http://chaotic4life.livejournal.com/profile)[**chaotic4life**](http://chaotic4life.livejournal.com/), who brought me ages ago at Sweet Charity. Thanks to [](http://starxd-sparrow.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://starxd-sparrow.livejournal.com/)**starxd_sparrow** for the beta. At this point, all errors are mine.
> 
> A sequel to [A Million Ways](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2148900), which you might want to read first.

I don't think this is quite what you wanted, so let me know if I can do something else to make up for the short word count and the way my muse took the prompt.

There was something so simple about disappearing. It was nothing compared to overhauling one's identity; that was simple enough to ascertain as she wondered around the small, secluded town in the California desert. She sat, watching as the sun sank lower behind the mountains blocking the view of the ocean she missed more and more each day, thinking about her life back in _that_ town with all _those_ people.

For all of his bumbles before, Keith Mars was more than receptive when she’d asked for his help in escaping the Fitzpatricks—especially since Liam had been so adamant about finding her once Cormac had been released from jail. Forgetting the Fitzpatricks was easy; leaving behind the life of crime that followed those men around required more effort than washing her hair and letting the filth from Cormac’s house swirl down the drain.

Everyone else was harder. Not that she ever wanted to admit it, but not having Dick's bellows echo in her house only reminded her that there was no Cassidy around to shut him up. She'd never been fond of either of the Casablancas boys, but she had enough sense to put on a show for everyone in town to see. Now left to her own thoughts, she realized that she enjoyed their company around the mansion. Not the circumstances that she found herself in thanks to their idiocy, but their presence; she didn’t miss the French maid costume, but their ambient sounds from everything they owned. Her house didn’t ding every hour as three different digital clocks noted it was time for school, nor did the her small space afford room for the PlayStation 2 that would whirl when no one was playing it.

Lastly, she thought of him. He’d been so smug and full of false bravado, but it was something that felt more like her life twenty years ago than anything else she done before leaving Neptune. One night—she shouldn’t have

She missed Neptune as the wind blew sand against her late-model Honda Civic, reflected on it as she wondered how she came to be sitting in a substantially smaller home.

The desert town one over from where she and Cormac had lived afforded her nice enough cover, and it was good enough for the time being. The desert had plenty of other sleepy towns, and the one that she’d found herself in didn’t really bother her after the initial rumble of questions: What was a pretty woman like her doing alone in the middle of the desert anyhow?

She found that keeping up with life back in Neptune was harder. The local rag was no use, and the Neptune paper was a glorified Page Six. On the off chance she could glean any of the sordid details, it was mostly Veronica Mars' exploits. Nothing of the one person in town she _wanted_ to read about. He remained elusive, shirking the spotlight uncharacteristically. She couldn’t figure out why he’d fallen off the map.

Determination came over her, and she finally sat down to remedy the one problem that still nagged at her from _that_ life.

Hours later, she sat with a letter in her hand, the proverbial message in a bottle, ready to be set adrift in the sea.

-*-

A hard knock interrupted his thoughts—not that his thoughts came quickly these days, he mused as the last images of Angelina Jolie left his consciousness.

“There’s a letter for you, Don.”

“That’s nice, Sacks. Why are you telling me this now? I’m here doing important things.”

“It’s a personal letter—I thought you’d like to read it. Not like the rest of those sympathy cards you’ve been getting lately.”

“Thanks. Now you’ve got paper work to finish up. Get back to it.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” Sacks replied, taking his leave.

Lamb stared at the letter for a long moment, attempting to figure out who would have sent him a letter. His mom had already sent him something, he remembered, which left few other women who sent missives addressed in narrow, feminine scrawl. Frowning, he opened the functional business envelope.

The address indicated that whoever sent the letter lived in some city near Twenty-Nine Palms. Out of the way from _everything_ that could get them into trouble. Lacking a name on the return address, Don looked at it closely, trying to examine the penmanship to glean who had written him. In the wake of his “accident” he had tried to look more carefully at things—not jumping to conclusions and rushing at doors with the passion of Don Quixote—because it only cost him in the end.

The envelope ripped openly easily before the contents of the letter registered in his mind.

He idly scanned the letter a moment before it grabbed his full attention. “What the _hell_ is she doing sending me mail? Keith said she was dead,” he muttered once he'd finished reading. And then he started reading it again from the beginning.

-*-

“You’re alive,” she stated upon finding Balboa County’s Sheriff slouching on her stoop.

“So are you,” he retorted as he pushed past her into the dim living room.

She huffed, but closed the door and followed him. “Faked it. Needed Liam off my back. You?”

Lamb inspected the threadbare sofa, but didn't sit. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were the brightest things in the room. “You could have done something else to get Liam off your back, now that I think about it. Plus, didn’t you ask me to help you out with that before? So much good that did you.”

“You did _such_ a great job the last time, I still needed protection." She smirked, folding her arms across her chest. Kendall could pull off imperious even among the dust motes. "And you didn’t answer my question."

"I didn’t get hit hard enough.”

“You win,” she said, smiling.

“Good.”

“Do you have some kind of a complex?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“What sort of complex?” The question had thrown him—not that he wanted her to know why.

“One that prevents you from accepting defeat,” she clarified.

“Did you miss the last year? No, I don’t have a complex. I just let one person beat me,” he snapped.

“She who will not be named, yes.”

“Yeah, her,” he replied with a scowl.

"Okay, one ground rule before you can stay: We only mock those still in Neptune.” Her statement sounded well-meaning, though it was tinged with sadness.

“Good. I never liked anyone there anyway.”

The air filled with tension after he dismissed everyone that had been a part of his life for the last year. He didn’t want to express how much the last few weeks had affected him, though he was sure it was obvious—his closely shaven head with the large, uneven scar at the back a gruesome testament to the fact.

A beat later, her reply came. “Then, welcome home, honey.”

“No more 'honey' and we’re fine.”

-*-

“So what do we do now?” he asked later that evening.

“Do I need to draw you a diagram? Tab A into slot B? Coming back to you yet?”

“I got that. Just, are we going to go for it?” He had a confused expression on his face—one that hadn’t left much since that day with Batando.

“I don’t do foreplay,” she responded.

“Useful information, and very unladylike..”

“Just today. You’re second first time, you know.”

“Alright.”

“Get to it.”

“I need to prep.”

“Don’t be a wimp. Just get it up. Isn’t it all physical for you anyway?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Would it help if I did anything?”

“Can you do a pole dance?”

“Anything but that. No pole in this shitty place.”

“Don’t complain to me about that. I didn’t pick it out.”

“I know, and I don’t want to talk about any of that right now. I just want to get laid.”

“ _Trying_ , remember?”

“Hurry up. I don’t want to wait all day. Plus, I’ve got a mani-pedi at four.”

“Pressure, huh?”

“Yeah, pressure. You’ve got ninety minutes before I have to leave for that crappy salon down the street.”

“Alright. Just flash me and I should be good.”

“You’re that easy?”

“Didn’t you pick that up from last time?”

“No, I didn’t. I was on a mission, if you remember.”

“Eh, it’s fuzzy.”

“Right. There, happier now.”

“Very.”

-*-

She felt awkward. It wasn’t like the last time. There had been fun and booze between them before she was tangled in sheets, smelling of sweat.

This time, she wanted to keep her arms wrapped around his chest, press her face against that reassuring rise and fall.

Playing with the small hairs against his chest, she continued to look at him, confused.

“You’re thinking again,” he said softly, as he caressed the small of her back.

“Can’t help it,” she replied.

“Well, stop. It’s not us.”

She pillowed her head on his shoulder, thinking only of here and now.

-*-

“Will you stop with the chewing? I’m trying to watch the movie!” he snapped as he stared at the television screen.

“I can’t help it—you’re the one who wanted to watch this. I’ve already seen it, thus the popcorn to cure boredom.” To demonstrate her displeasure, she flipped her hair to the side and examined her nails, feigning disinterest.

“But what about your figure?” he asked.

“You’ll sleep with me anyway. Just go back to watching.”

“I would, but I still can’t hear anything.”

“Well, I can’t leave you alone, remember. Doctor’s orders.”

“Screw the doctor.”

“No thanks. He’s bald. That’s just… gross!”

"I just want some quiet.”

“And then you’ll forget to keep your attention on Belushi and hit your head. Then we’re both screwed, and not in the good way.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.”

“Bullshit, you don't care. Near death experiences are supposed to make you cherish life, not want to leave it again.”

“It’s ninety minutes, for Christ’s sake. I’m not going to die in that time.” Sighing heavily, he tried to focus back on the screen, avoiding her hard gaze.

“How do I know that? I’m not the one who got to go to all of those neurology appointments before. You know, since everyone thinks I’m dead.”

“Not my fault you have crazy ex-boyfriends.”

“I’ll add another one if you’re not careful.”

"Okay, now we’re just going in circles. Stop eating, and I’ll let you stay.”

“But I hate this movie.”

“Tough shit. I want to watch, and it’s my choice tonight.”

“Fine. I’ll just roll my eyes. You already know how this ends.”

“Maybe I don’t remember. Ever think of that? You know, since that injury, the noggin’s not what it used to be.”

“That I don’t believe. We’ve just argued through another five minutes of the movie, and they’re still driving that stupid car.”

“Do. Not. Insult. The. Car. It’s a classic.”

“A rust bucket is what it is.”

“Now, you’re done. I want to keep watching."

“Fine by me.”

Her fingers hit the edge of the She drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch, a perfect counterpoint to her popcorn chewing.

-*-

He didn’t like fighting with her. He wanted it to be easy and fluid, sort of like their first time, but without the handcuffs.

The movie had ended minutes ago, but he couldn’t get himself off the couch. He just went back to their fight, trying to figure why he’d snapped.

She’d asked him to visit, yet she continued to push his buttons. It didn’t make sense to him. Nothing made sense to him, though.

-*-

“What do you want to do today?” she asked.

“Dunno. Just want to sit.”

“Is that good for you?”

“I sat all day at the office—this isn’t anything new.”

“But isn’t it boring?”

“Comfortable,” he said with a sigh.

“What about what _I_ want to do?” Her voice was altogether too close to a whine.

“We can do that tomorrow. Sitting feels right today.”

“I’m not amused,” she retorted.

"I can't bring myself to care."

-*-

The mountains obstructed the sun, but the shadows calmed him. He tried to think of other things besides the brunette in the kitchen, though he couldn't think of much else. Memories were foggy most of the time, he knew from the off moments when he had time alone. He’d grown used to admiring the scenes around him—looking for the minuet details that stood out in his brain.

There was a certain comfort in their relationship, something that had been eluding him after the accident. Everyone else treated him with kid gloves, especially around the office, and she’d tried before he rebuffed her.

He just wanted normal again. Just like everything in that summer when she had left town. Calm in Neptune, the first time in ages that he could remember. Work hadn’t been so easy, ever, he mused. It was hard after the elder Echolls was offed, but it had been easier than dealing with the younger’s murder case. The times when he could look at the sun and know that it meant the end of an easy day chasing down PCHers, and not one where he never left the tepid air of the Balboa County Courthouse. There had to be a meaning to all of the nature that he gazed at each night, he knew.

The wind blew across the porch, shaking him free of his thoughts. He looked at the setting sun, then walked back into the house.

-*-

“This is boring.”

“What else is new? We’re in Bumblefuck, California.”

“I can’t help that.”

“Yeah, you can. Move somewhere else, _Liza_.”

“But...” she began.

“Excuses will get you nowhere.”

“What happened to you being nice to me with my new name?”

“Went out the window when you messed with me watching _The Blues Brothers_.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Thought so.”

-*-

 

She watched the sun dip below the mountains ago, this time as a late-model pick-up truck rode off towards the setting sun.

Their days hadn’t been perfect, she knew that, but they had been better than anything else she’d done in the last year.

The town was too sleepy—the people too addled by so much sun and heat—she needed movement, scandal, _trouble_.

The need to move, to change, itched around her brain. The _need_ demanded that she leave to start over, again.

The more she thought about, the more the setting sun edged her of. Promising new adventures just over the horizon.

She thought about it more before quickly turning on her heel to head back inside.

There was no use in wanting to leave if he wasn’t there with her.

It had taken the whole week he’d been around for her to realize that it was comforting—going back to that day.

Not that she wanted all of Neptune engulfing her mind, but the simple reminder stood out.

-*-

“Don, there’s a letter for you,” Sacks said while pushing his head through the door.

“Hand it over and go,” Lamb said caustically. “I’ve got things to do.”

Sacks walked over quickly, dropped off the letter and said nothing else.

The letter opened quickly under his thumb and index finger. Once he unfolded the paper, he quickly scanned the message.

_Come back. I’m lonely, and bored._

“If only it were that easy, honey,” he said with a smirk before he dropped the letter into front draw of his desk.

-*-

Four months after her letter arrived at the station Lamb retired. There wasn’t anything for him to do but paperwork day in and day out—no one had left him get back into the habit of his _job_ after the neurologist had cleared him.

Bag packed in his truck, he set his eyes on the rising sun from the East and the mountains that obscured it. There was a promise in the East, he thought.

“Zeppelin be damned,” he muttered before turning the engine over and setting off towards the growing sun.


End file.
